Model Behavior
by honestgrins
Summary: It's her last session posing in Klaus Mikaelson's art studio, but Caroline isn't sure she's ready to say goodbye. (Klaroline Winter Wonderland gift for melsbels/goldcaught)


Klaus answered the door on the third knock, like he had been waiting for her. Shaking the snow from her hair, Caroline scowled as he ushered her inside the warm foyer. "God, it's cold out here. I love Chicago, but these winters are brutal."

Biting back a chuckle, he helped her out of her thick peacoat. "I believe that's your Southern upbringing speaking, love," he teased.

"Say what you want about Virginia," she gave an exaggerated drawl, along with her patented, Pageant Ice Queen smile, "at least I don't have to worry about losing my extremities to the weather." She unwrapped a bright blue scarf from her neck, her face flushed pink from the wind. With a happier grin, she crossed her arms as he carefully hung her outerwear in the front closet. "Thanks for keeping the house warm, though. I can't imagine what your electric bill must look like to heat this place, but it's much appreciated."

Clearly having spent too much time with her, Klaus rolled his eyes and guided her through the ridiculous mansion, toward his studio. "I assure you, the upkeep is more than worth the cost if it means you won't be complaining throughout the session."

She shrugged, unruffled by the jab. Banter was kind of their thing after six weeks of working together in an intimate fashion. "Hey, I'm the one getting naked, I'm entitled to a few comments about literally freezing my ass off."

"Then I think you'll be pleased with tonight's session." Klaus didn't meet her eyes, but he almost seemed nervous, an expression she was unfamiliar with - on him, at least.

If someone had told her just two months ago that she'd be making jokes about getting naked with Klaus Mikaelson, she would have laughed in their face. The high-powered CEO of Hybrid Technologies was famously demanding and private, and the public was only privy to what his savvy media team allowed. What the world didn't know was that he moonlighted anonymously as a successful artist, hung in the best galleries around the city, even the world.

Caroline only found out thanks to her friend Enzo, a musician who booked modeling gigs to pay the bills from time to time. Funnily enough, they had met in college while both fulfilling work study hours in the art department, serving as figure models for introductory courses. Though she threw herself into the event-planning industry after graduation, Enzo had kept up with the arty network of Loyola alumni to land himself a plum gig working for some bigwig.

It had been a grand secret, one he enjoyed hanging over her head at every opportunity. But when her event agency went bankrupt courtesy of an embezzling jackass, Caroline needed a paycheck in the meantime before one of their competitors could add her to the payroll. So Enzo had broached the topic with his boss, which got her in the door for an interview bound by a nondisclosure agreement. Before the ink of her signature had even dried, the papers were shuffled off to the lawyers and Klaus Mikaelson swept into the room.

He was handsome and charming, but all of Caroline's instincts were screaming at the concept of a rich guy keeping a stable of models on call, just in case his artistic muse struck at a convenient time to his ridiculous corporate overlord schedule. It took a frantic phone call to Enzo, an incredibly in-depth contract to explain the details, and a really good cup of coffee to convince her that it was a legitimate job offer that she was free to leave at any time if she felt uncomfortable.

A month and half later, and uncomfortable was the last thing she felt as they walked, Klaus's hand warm on her back. For someone so famously private, Caroline had been surprised to find him so at ease with her in his home. He had been fairly open about anything she wanted to know, which she took as tacit permission to be nosy. Artwork lined the hallways, but not his own, she had learned early on in their arrangement.

"Why don't you hang your paintings here?" The question had burned in her mind since she first asked about the priceless works casually existing within her reach. A Warhol, a Pollock, even a lesser Van Gogh - but none from his own hand.

Eyebrows raised, Klaus ducked his head at her curious gaze. "Even I'm not so narcissistic as to praise my own skill, let alone to compare it to those far more talented."

Caroline snorted, his inflated ego often batted between them. "Well, I know that's not true," she teased. They finally made it to his studio, a fresh canvas already set up next to a velvet chaise. She sat down, her chin tilted toward him in challenge. "But seriously, you have at least ten models on speed dial. If you use all of them half as much as I've been sitting for you, you must have hundreds of paintings. Not one of them is wall worthy? I find that hard to believe. You're too good."

"Thank you, love," he answered softly. Caroline watched him, how tentatively he began to collect his paintbrushes. Bashful was a new look for him, much like his earlier nerves. "There are some littered throughout the house, but I mainly keep my work to the galleries. My family has been gifted some as well - I believe my sister has one your friend Enzo sat for hanging in her dining room."

Blinking, Caroline's hand moved unconsciously to cover the low neckline of her dress. "It's weird, I hadn't really thought about what happens to your paintings of me when you finish," she admitted. Of the three projects they had done together, only one of them had required her to show a little more skin. Despite taking extra sessions for longer periods of time, Caroline had no qualms about accepting the invitation to sit for a full nude. "I mean, I posed nude for years in college, probably fodder for some enterprising freshman's burgeoning Playboy empire."

Klaus winced. "I do hope you find my work more tasteful than that."

"How would I know? You never show me the finished product." She arched an accusing eyebrow, unable to fight down a smile to see him rub anxiously at his neck. "So tell me, where did I end up? I'm not in your brother's laundry room, am I?"

With a shake of his head, Klaus grabbed his sketch pad before joining her on the chaise. "The first two paintings have already been sent to my agent, Marcel has a knack for finding where each work belongs."

While Klaus flipped pages trying to show her the concept drawing for the new pose, Caroline frowned as her brain stuck on what he said. "Just the first two?"

The first was an action shot of her feet while walking, a quick afternoon with Klaus's camera so he could work from a photo. The second was a study of her hair, the blonde curls tumbling over her shoulder in the light of the setting sun, three days of meeting at dusk for him to get the coloring right. She had enjoyed them, sure, but the third? That one was special.

She wore a gauzy evening gown, her hair meticulously set into an elaborate updo and diamonds dripping from her ears. He had set her at an antique vanity, facing her away from the easel so he caught her reflection in the mirror. Rather than her getting ready to leave, however, the piece was meant to capture the relief of coming home and removing the constraints of social performance. The idea sounded more artistic than pretentious with his accent, she remembered.

What she really remembered, though, was the feel of his hands as he unzipped the strapless dress so it gaped open to reveal her back and most of her breasts as the fabric sagged. Fingers plucked at a few hairpins, gently curling the loose strands across her neck. He positioned her hand to reach for an earring, the matching bracelet strewn over the edge of a porcelain jewelry box. Every detail was carefully planned and executed, his focus so absolute that Caroline would swear she could feel his eyes with each glance he sent over the canvas. She wasn't sure if it was her state of undress or the sheer intensity of watching Klaus dissect every inch of her for hours at a time, but she felt a vulnerability during those sessions - and how he took care to reassure her before and after.

For him not to even send the painting on to his agent sent a fresh wave of insecurity through her.

Klaus cleared his throat, fidgeting slightly. "Er, I have yet to make a decision on the last one. As for the new pose, this was my plan." He shifted the pad to her knee. "We discussed it as a nude, but only because the robe I hope to use has the potential to be quite revealing. The idea is to embody comfort, you reading a tablet on this chaise, in front of the fireplace."

A soft smile pulled at her lips. "That does sound warm," she noted.

"The motive is entirely selfish, I promise." Klaus's hand grazed her leg as he picked the sketch pad back up from her lap. "It's a lighting exercise for me, to balance the warmth of the fire against the coolness of the electronic backlight."

"Yeah, yeah, arty words and color theory," she shrugged, nudging his shoulder. "Before we get started, though, I wanted to talk to you."

His amused smirk fell into a frown. "Sounds serious, love."

"Only in terms of life goals and professional advancement." Her smile stretched wide in excitement as Caroline raised her fists in a little dance. "Guess who finished negotiations with her new company!"

Klaus almost immediately relaxed, though his answering smile was a bit dim. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," she said primly, only to laugh when his dimples appeared. "Seriously, thank you. Not only has this job helped me keep the lights on at home, but your corporate titan tips helped me to get a nice salary bump and even some perks. My start date isn't for another couple of weeks, so it shouldn't affect this project, but it will probably have to be my last."

"Right, best get started then." Klaus stood, clearing his throat once again. "The robe is hanging in the bathroom, and all I ask for your hair is to pick a style that matches the comfort theme."

"Oh, okay," Caroline said, a little thrown at his abrupt redirect. Before she could move toward the bathroom to get changed, though, she whirled to face him as he fiddled with the easel. "I'm sorry, I thought I was free to leave this arrangement at any time."

He looked up, his brows furrowed in confusion. "You are," he confirmed uneasily.

Crossing her arms, her shoulders lifted in irritation. "Then why aren't you excited for me? I was always going to take the job, it was just a matter of time." It had been a frequent topic of conversation over their acquaintance: how she fell into a career of event planning, how her scumbag of an ex-boss temporarily derailed it, how much she missed it. More than that, she appreciated how much Klaus seemed to pay attention to those conversations, like they were actually friends.

Like he actually cared.

"I know that, sweetheart." His voice was terse, but he wouldn't meet her eyes. "I merely sorry you won't be able to sit for me anymore, our sessions have resulted in some of my best work."

Caroline let out a harsh laugh. "Yeah, your best work," she mocked. "Yet you don't give one of them to your agent, apparently so sure it won't sell. What, are my b-"

"It would sell." Klaus stepped out from behind his canvas, only to stop short at her somehow curious glare. "The painting of you at the vanity, if I let the galleries have it…" Breaking off, he swallowed nervously. "Well, I didn't."

Her hands jerked out in question, frustration rolling off her in waves. "Why the hell not?"

Smoothing a hand over his mouth in deep thought, Klaus finally nodded. "Come with me, I want to show you something." He led her through the house, until they ended up in what she assumed was a guest room. Blandly decorated and almost cold, the only real burst of color came from the painting above the bed.

It was a couple dancing on a balcony, her red dress swirling up as she turned, his shoes shining under the light of the moon. "Every time I work with a model, it's usually to practice a specific skill - light, motion, so on. Because of that, my pieces can be clinical, detached. It's not an emotional process for me, which I tend to reserve for abstracts."

"Okay," Caroline drawled, desperately trying to ignore the very comfortable looking bed just feet away from them. She might have been mad, but he was still ridiculously attractive; there were plenty of interesting ways her brain could imagine to work out their tension. "What does that have to do with me?"

Klaus licked his lips, which really wasn't helping her train of thought. "I lied earlier," he admitted, "when I said I hadn't made a decision about the last painting. Are you sure you want to see it?"

She thought back to the pose with the vanity, wondering how badly it could have been transferred to canvas that had Klaus freaking Mikaelson looking at her like she was a flight risk. Still, Caroline nodded. "Show me."

Steeling himself, Klaus let his hand fall to hers and pulled her back to the hallway. She was too busy staring at their joined hands to notice that he was leading her to another bedroom, one very much lived in. Her eyes roved over the family photos on an ornate fireplace mantel, the wall lined with overloaded bookshelves, and a walk in closet so immaculately organized that she wanted to clutter it up just to reorganize it herself.

She was in Klaus's bedroom, and hanging across from the floor-to-ceiling windows was a beautiful portrait of her. "I didn't want to sell it," Klaus said quietly, releasing her so she could step closer to the framed canvas. "As I said, my subject tends to be the technique more than the model. When I paint you, however, all I see is you."

Each brush stroke of her form was crisp, exacting; the line of her cheek was stark against the shadows of the room surrounding her. But the lines grew fuzzier in the background, almost blurring to put Caroline in greater focus. It didn't feel clinical to her, not like the dancing couple or the one Enzo had shown her in a gallery once.

She looked beautiful, yes, but it was more that she felt beautiful looking at the painting. A painting he had hung in his bedroom where it caught the morning light. "Klaus-"

"I didn't want to share you." His voice was soft, and he had moved closer until she felt his warm presence at her back. "And I hate to lose you."

Turning to face him, Caroline searched his expression. "What would you do with the comfort painting?"

He swallowed, and her eyes followed the bobbing of his throat. "It would be far more suited to my study," he answered honestly, "not that I expect you to stay."

Caroline blinked, fighting hard not to sway into him. "Why's that?"

"I believe you had some hesitations during the interview, about my 'creepy need to have pretty people at my beck and call,'" Klaus pointed out. His head dropped a bit, just out of a tempting reach. "I'd like to assure you that I've never gotten personal with any of the models in my employ, but I'm finding it rather hard not to kiss you."

"In your employ," Caroline latched onto the phrase. Smiling to herself, she let a hand reach out to tug at the hem of his Henley. "You know, I do believe I gave two weeks' notice just a little bit ago. And Enzo said both he and the lady model working with him were throwing you some hard flirts, which kind of supports the claim that you never do this."

"Love-"

She laid her hands on his waist, one thumb darting beneath the shirt to find bare skin. "Do you want me? Because it's a bold move to hang a girl's half nude portrait in your bedroom if you don't intend to follow through."

Leaning into her touch, Klaus tangled his fingers in her hair. "Are you terminating your contract with me, Caroline?"

"Yes," she answered decisively before reaching up to his face and pulling his lips to hers. Perhaps it wasn't the most prudent idea to sleep with such a recent boss, and maybe not the most ladylike to do so underneath a scandalous painting of herself. But Caroline happily let Klaus lay her upon his bed, eagerly chasing his kisses.

He chuckled against her mouth, and his nose bumped hers playfully. "Someone's eager."

With a wicked grin, Caroline slipped her hand lower to trace the bulge of his hand. "I can tell," she teased. "But I won't hold it against you."

"Well I hope that's not true," he joked right back, his lips falling to her neck as he worked the hem of her sweater dress upward. Inch by inch, she felt his hands sweep up the length of her leggings before tucking his fingers inside the waistband. Caroline gave a little shimmy to help him remove them, leaving her lower half completely exposed to him. A light finger dragged along the line between her thigh and her pelvis. "Did you forget something this morning, love?"

"Nude is right there in the art model job description," she answered, rolling her eyes. "I thought it would be a bit more expedient to do without the extra layer. If it weren't negative seven hundred degrees outside, then I wouldn't have bothered with the leggings either."

Laughing, Klaus let his greedy hands wander as she pulled him in for another kiss. "That just makes me wonder what choices you would make in a warmer climate," he whispered. "On a beach, for example." He cupped a breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple. "Topless?"

"If it's private," she conceded, "but I don't think my new boss would appreciate me taking a vacation so soon. Not all of us can be high powered CEOs, jet setting at our leisure."

"But having a jet allows for even weekend jaunts." Klaus ducked his head, his warm mouth replacing his thumb. Lightly tugging at her nipple with his lips, she felt him smile against her sensitive skin. "I'll take you wherever you want to go."

Caroline pushed at his chest, rolling them over until she was settled in his lap. She yanked his shirt over his head, not hesitating to pin him back to the bed with a fierce kiss, her fingers gripping his curls as she nipped at his lips. "All interesting propositions we can negotiate later," she murmured, "but I don't want to be anywhere other than right here, right now, with you." A sentiment Klaus appeared to share since he didn't let her leave until he had claimed her in every room of his house, even on the chaise where she never did get around to reading a book.

He did paint her though, the silky robe still hanging in his bathroom all the while.


End file.
